Together, Between, Apart
by ScarletVampyre
Summary: Because they can only survive it together. Because there's a traitor between them. But most importantly, because they're falling apart. SiriusRemus. Nonfluffy slash.


**A/N:** If i can't bring you noncon, i will bring you fight!sex. Hurrah!

**Warnings:** Slash, and not particularly happy slash at that.

**Because they can only survive it together. Because there's a traitor between them. But most importantly, because they're falling apart.**

**Together, Between, Apart**

_Traitor._

_Spy._

_Werewolf._

_Death Eater._

The words fly between them, flashing like the blades of daggers and piercing skin like silver bullets. And how easily they sink in, cutting to bone, embedded in flesh; how easily they echo in the stifling heat of mistrust and how they are smothered by the yawning silences that stretch for hours.

Sirius can't be sure when it happened, when the general sense of betrayal became more specific – that is, when _There's a traitor amongst us_ became _Remus is a traitor amongst us_. He doesn't remember how they came to be this way – standing feet apart with miles between them, spitting words they wish they didn't mean across the room – but they are this way and they do mean the words they hiss like venom and his lip is curling as Remus demands 'What are you insinuating, Sirius?' in a soft voice that belies the anger hardening his eyes.

Sirius' own voice is low when he replies and the sneer twisting his mouth makes Remus' heart clench.

'Someone amongst us is passing information to Voldemort. And well, it wouldn't be unexpected of... _your_ sort.' He sees hurt momentarily flash in Remus' eyes before it is quickly swallowed by fury.

'Werewolf,' Sirius hisses and is oddly satisfied when Remus' fist smashes against his jaw. He can taste blood as his split lip curves into a mocking smile and he wonders how far he can push.

He hates himself for provoking Remus but it's like an addiction and he can't stop. Because when Remus is breathing heavily with his eyes gleaming he can almost pretend things are how they used to be. He can almost pretend that the week-old purple bruise on the underside of Remus' jaw is from his mouth and not his fist; or that the gripping sensation around his chest if love and not anger, hate, fear; or that he's hard because he _wants_ Remus not because he _needs_ him, not because the thought of losing Remus makes him desperate.

'Death Eater,' Remus snarls and it's a well-trodden path, a well-rehearsed dance, both of them knowing which step comes next as Sirius grabs a fistful of Remus' hair, dragging him closer and tilting his face upwards.

'No,' Remus whispers, a puff of breath against Sirius' lips, as he pushes his palms against Sirius' chest, tries to turn his head away.

'No,' Sirius agrees, or disagrees, and crashes their mouths together. Their teeth clack and their noses bump and Remus pounds his fist against Sirius' chest once before they thrust their tongues together in anger and hate and want and need.

Sirius pushes Remus backward and they stumble towards the couch, falling down, sharp elbows and soft cushions, as Sirius untucks Remus' shirt from his trousers. His hands quickly unbuckle Remus' belt and slide beneath his boxers.

'Don't,' Remus hisses even as he reaches to fumble with Sirius' zipper. Sirius wants to whisper _I won't_ even though he's not sure what he's promising but their mouths are pressed together and his tongue is unable to form words curled around Remus'.

They pull off each other's clothes and Sirius spits on his fingers, slides his hand between Remus' legs. Remus is staring at a point over Sirius' shoulder and refuses to meet his eyes as Sirius' fingers move inside him. Sirius twists his fingers particularly sharply and Remus sucks in his breath and clenches his jaw as he finally complies and meets Sirius' fierce gaze. Sirius twists his fingers again just to get a reaction; just so he knows he can still make Remus feel something, anything.

He pulls his fingers out and draws Remus' knees further apart as he presses closer. He begins to push inside and can feel that Remus isn't properly ready yet – he's far too tight and it's almost hurting Sirius as he forces deeper – yet neither of them says a word and only the quickening of their breath betrays they can feel anything.

Sirius begins to thrust, sharp jerks of his hips that make Remus wince, and they still hold each other's eyes, refusing to look away because now it's become a contest of who will break first. Sirius is moving quickly, slamming into Remus hard and fast, as his fingers dig into the werewolf's hips leaving crescent impressions of his nails.

Remus suddenly whispers 'I hate you.' But it gets mixed up and he thinks it might have come out as _love_ and then he can't remember what he meant to say anyway.

'I know,' Sirius murmurs even though he's not sure what the second word was either. 'I know, I know.'

They are moving together now, hard thrusts met with arching hips, their laboured breaths meeting somewhere between them. Remus reaches down and wraps his fingers around his own cock, stroking himself in rhythm with Sirius' movements. When Sirius sees what he is doing he moves his own hand to cover Remus' and they slide their fingers up and down as one and Remus has to suddenly close his eyes at the humourless parody of unity, of tenderness, of love.

Their hands move together and their hips move together and Sirius leans forward so their tongues can move together. And then they're coming together, Remus spilling over both their hands and Sirius shuddering between Remus' thighs and for one white-hot moment everything falls away and there is nothing left but here, now, this, _us_.

But then Remus is opening his eyes and Sirius is pulling out of him, muttering _Scourigfy_ and pulling his trousers back on. They won't look at each other and there is nothing for them to say because all they can hear is the echo of earlier words. Sirius leaves his shirt on the floor and stalks from the room, the door slamming behind him, and leaves Remus still lying on the couch with a hand pressed to his eyes as he begins to sob.

**Peractio**


End file.
